You know, lately, the term "manning up" has become really subjective. I mean, way back in the good old days, manning up meant only one thing: Mindless pounding; be it a mountain, a dragon, some man hitting on your woman, some man screwing your woman, or your woman (in all sense of bow chicking her bow wow).
That was it. Manning up just meant numbing your remaining brain cells, clenching your fists and doing the most primitive thing that makes it into your mind within 10 seconds (because you'd only have 10 fingers to count with). This was man at its primitive glory, folks. I mean,; come on, we have BOXING, for crying out loud. Back then no one thought of DUCKING, it was just "punch. no die? punch again. Loop"
Today, manning up could mean ANYTHING. It could mean walking away from a fight, it could mean skipping the quadruple-double McSteak-and-bucket-of-grease-wich-with-beef-buns. It could mean getting your wife flowers when she's mad at you or NOT getting her flowers, letting her be mad and cooling off instead. Worse; manning up nowadays could actually mean, god forbid, TALKING THINGS OUT.
Honestly? blame the women.
WAIT.
Before you pelt me in pitchforks tipped with grizzly bears and chainsaws, I don't mean this in a bad way. I mean; let's face it; I don't wake up in the mornings and swan dive off a waterfall of Old Spice and brush my teeth with a freshly ripped vertebrae of a caribou. Count 'em, I know words more than 3 syllables long. Some.
Where was I?
right. Modern man is raised by his mother. and when someone with brains is in charge of explaining the world to a highly impressionable kid, his vision of the world WILL change, regardless of how well caribou-spine prevents tooth decay. This generation of momma's boys have F1, which is so brain intensive that it's a sport that STILL causes physical harm even though you spend the entire sport sitting down.
I'm rambling, so I'll state my argument now: Being a Man now is different from being a man then. To enforce this, i'll provide several scenarios.
Back then, it was perfectly cool that Captain America punched Adolf in the jaw. THAT was a hero. BIFF! BAM! POW!. We had the DOOM GUY, people. 7 (or 9, if you wanna get technical) weapons that run on TESTOSTERONE. Arnold Schwartzenegger was TERMINATOR. T-Rex stood up straight and Pluto was a planet because SOMEONE had to emphasize the hugeness of Jupiter. When a guy comes near your woman, they put a vacancy sign on their ass, and your foot is looking for a place to stay.
Got that? Because now, nothing gets accomplished until there is DELIBERATION. We have Portal. We have TOOLS. Arnold Schwartzenegger was GOVERNOR. T-Rex laid low and might have been a scavenger. Pluto's not a planet. You use mind tricks to protect your woman (and god forbid, meaningful conversation)
The old Man sees things in binary. black and white. Today, there are so many sides to the story, by the time you actually get to the decision-making, you're too exhausted to do anything. The death of Duke Nukem and rebirth of Stephen Hawking.
Even "fight" has lost it's meaning. Say "Fight" to the old man and you'd be painted a picture of eagles, chainsaws, katanas, and maybe even a jack-hammer/Platypus hybrid. Now, fighting can be anything, from not eating to standing still.
So when you tell me to man up, fight for what I want, your guess is as good as anyone's as to what i'm supposed to do. Meanwhile, I'm in need of a BFG, some Irn Bru and perhaps looping Revenge of The Fallen over and over again. Clearly, man and thinking were just never meant to be.
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